The Opera's Angel
by 1AmberSkye1
Summary: A girl connects together a story that little Christine Daae tells her to rumors about a ghost and worries about what could happen to the girl. What will happen when she decides to intervene?


The girl ran down the endless hall, gasping for breath. She hurt all over but she knew she could make it, get away before the shadow following her could reach her and hurt her more. No matter how much she ran, the door never got any closer and then the shadow was upon her. It faded into a man she knew too well, yelling at her in unintelligible words. The girl screamed, and screamed again-

She awoke with a gasp. A much younger girl, only seven or eight, stood looking down at the one in bed. The little girl had long and curly golden-brown hair and huge doe eyes.

"Are you okay, Bea?" The little girl asked softly.

"I'm fine, Christine."

"My daddy used to talk to me when I had a bad dream. Do you want me to talk to you, Beatrice?"

"Okay." Beatrice said, not really meaning it but not wanting to go back to sleep either. Beatrice didn't look much like the other girls here, she never quite got into the Parisian lifestyle at the Opera Populare. Not only did she look different from the blond-haired, blue-eyed norm- with dark brown hair most thought was black until they saw it in the sun, and dark green eyes- but she always acted a bit more mature than the ballet rats she lived with, became a mentor, if not almost a leader among them, although that could be simply because she was older, nearly seventeen now and was their dance instructor in every way but writing.

Christine's voice was a distraction from the recurring nightmare as she told Beatrice all about an Angel of Music that sang to her... wait, what?

"Hold on, Christine, are you saying that this man is real?" Beatrice asked.

"He's an angel, silly!" she said, looking a bit put off. "Of course he is. He sings to me at night sometimes in the chapel, when I miss daddy. His voice is like music, its so pretty."

That didn't sound good. No, that sounded like a man trying to prey on a young girl in the middle of the night.

"What does he look like, Christine?" Beatrice kept her voice politely interested.

"I dunno. He says I can't see him because he's an angel."

"Right... can I meet this Angel like you do?"

"Well, I'm not really supposed to talk about him... he's shy, I think."

Shy. Right. "I really would like to just listen in. It would be our little secret?"  
"Oh, okay. That would be fine. We can go see him tomorrow!" She exclaimed, looking excited at having a secret with Beatrice.  
"Okay, Christine. Now I think I would like some sleep."

She smiled and went happily back to her own bed, quiet as a mouse. Beatrice never slept much, whether insomnia or simply nightmares she couldn't ever tell. She laid back down and looked at the patterns on her ceiling deep in thought about Christine's story, wondering if it was just the young girl's reaction to losing her father or something more.

The next morning came slowly, and Beatrice woke before the other girls and got ready. She was on her way to breakfast before the other ballet rats would be roused from their beds for the day's practice. The Opera House was usually such a full and bustling place, silence was rare even so early. To some it seemed eerie, sounds echoing in the hallways, but she treasured the moment's peace. In the kitchen, the cooks were working away at the morning meal but stopped to wish her well. Lisa, the head cook, was a matronly women who had taken a liking to Beatrice when she first tried to sneak a cookie without anyone seeing as a child. Now, she made Beatrice a warm cup of tea and regaled her with all of the recent gossip.

Beatrice wasn't much of a gossip herself, but took pleasure in some of the talk about the mysterious Ghost supposedly living there.

"Oh, I heard he left another letter for the manager?" Asked a cook, who was chopping up vegetables.

"Really? What for?" Another replied across the room near the ovens.

"Well, the dancers are getting ready for the new production and simply cannot get timing down, it seems."

Hmm, she would look out for that and work on it with the girls, Beatrice thought to herself. Real or not, the hints dropped by the 'Ghost' were always helpful to the performance.

"You're a dancer, dearie, what do you think of old O.G?" Surprised at being addressed in all the bustle, she thought for a moment, wondering with a grin what his reaction at being referred to so familiarly would be. "I can't say I believe in him much." She decided.

"Then who do you think directs the manager? That new stagehand claims he had seen him, and everyone has heard his voice!"

"What does a ghost sound like?" She asked, expecting something like wind rattling chains. She wasn't prepared for her answer.

"Its like wonderful music. His singing is so beautiful it is frightening. He does haunt an opera house for a reason, I suppose."

"And nobody has ever truly seen him?" She began to have a growing suspicion that she didn't like at all.

They shook their heads no.

So, a man with a wonderful voice that no one has really seen. Beatrice doubted the Opera had room for two supernatural beings. Hadn't Christine told anyone else? Hadn't they made a connection?

The day dragged on slowly after that, Beatrice did manage to get timing down with some help from Madame Giry, who taught a group of girls while Beatrice helped onstage.

Finally, the day was over and she pulled Christine aside.

"Lets go, while no one is looking. There's a window outside you can peek in but you have to be quiet. If I fall asleep, Angel will fly me back to my room." Christine whispered with a smile.

He got into their room and woke nobody up? Her eyes widened and she followed the little girl to the windowsill.

When Christine was inside she sat in the front row.

"Angel of Music, my guardian angel, I came like you said I should." It was silent for a few moments until she heard a voice. No words could do it justice. It was smooth and dark and...remarkably kind to Christine. From a shadow, she saw a figure shift deeper into darkness. Her eyes must have resembled Christine's doe-like ones then, realizing he was indeed a man. She cursed the lack of illumination, but it might have been best if he glanced her way. She kept watch still, now leaning against the building. How dangerous was this man, if she was already willing to lay down and sleep and leave poor Christine alone? For a long time, nearly half an hour if not longer, Christine simply talked to him about silly things that happened everyday, and sometimes her father. After that, he asked her to sing him a song. He would gently make corrections: posture, tone, length. He complimented her after it was absolutely perfect, and then he began to sing a song of his own.

It was a fairly simple lullaby but she didn't recognize it. The lyrics themselves were almost hauntingly sad, telling a tale of a boy who longed to reach out for more but never could. Christine didn't seem to understand the story, probably for the best, and fell asleep quickly. After the song, the man stepped from the shadows. She squinted but couldn't see much clearer. The man began humming now, and picked the small girl up easily. Beatrice scrambled to follow him back to the Opera House – at a safe distance – until he lay her in her bed. He left almost immediately and she had to dive silently behind a door without being seen and followed him hastily in the direction of the stage. When she got there, she caught a flash of a white mask on a face before he seemingly disappeared. The rumors were that the Ghost wore a mask. She should leave. But no, she had to protect Christine or she knew something terrible would happen.

"Angel! Or Phantom, if you prefer, I know you are here somewhere!" She tried not to be too loud and wake anyone.

"Now who are you?" His voice asked, now coming from everywhere on the ceiling at once and making her breath catch in her throat.

She swallowed. She hadn't really thought this plan through.

"A friend of Christine's. I know you are her Angel of Music and also the Phantom of the Opera!" And that was literally everything she knew. She cursed herself for being such an idiot.

"You have discovered my secret? What are you going to do with that information?" She couldn't decipher his tone and it was rather frightening. Her mouth went dry as she realized just how bad of an idea this was. People rumored the Phantom was a killer! But were those just rumors?

"I – you need to stop bothering Christine! She has never done any harm!" Why oh why was she still talking? Oh, too late now! She might as well keep going.  
"Did she seem bothered at any time?"

"Well... no. But you aren't letting her grow up. If she keeps believing you can always protect her it will hurt her one day."  
"Who are you to talk to the Phantom of the Opera in this way?"

"My name is Beatrice Allison Crest and apparently I am the only one who saw through your ghostly facade." She was annoyed, though it was at the others in the Opera who might have made the connection even more easily than she had but didn't.

"You are more foolish than I thought, or perhaps braver. You believe you can stop a ghost from doing what he wills?"

"I do not presume to have any power to stop you. Can't you at least see reason, and think about what you are doing to her? I won't sit idly by as you manipulate her! Besides that, we both know you are a man."

He paused. "I am no Dante, wishing to be led towards Paradise like a horse on a lead, least of all by you."

Beatrice had no idea what he was talking about, but he was basically insulting her, she could figure that much out.

"Then I believe I came here for nothing. I warn you, I'm not going to just lay back and let nothing happen. Christine doesn't deserve that!"

There might not have been anyone to tell, but she had a few ideas of her own...

"Do not presume to tell me what people do or do not deserve! If you tell anyone, you will find it is the last thing you do." His voice was more raised than it had been before.

"Duly noted." Beatrice said with a scowl that masked her terror and spun on her heel back to her room. Whether out of spite or a show of bravery – or foolishness – she left the door unlocked.

From somewhere far beneath her, a man in a mask pondered if he should frighten her away from his protegee.

Beatrice had come to the conclusion that she needed to talk to the Ghost again. How was another question, there was obviously no guarantee that he would hear her if she called on the stage again at night, and she could catch the attention of someone which would be very inconvenient and might result in her being killed by the Ghost for thinking she had been telling secrets. There was one place though, Box Five, the best in the house, that the manager kept empty for the Ghost. She was needed during a performance though, and if she left a note someone else might see it and know it was her. But if she did something anonymous that anyone could have done... an idea came to mind.

"And... done!" Beatrice whispered an hour later, grinning like a fool. In an hour, the opening performance of the newest opera would be shown. She would be onstage almost the whole time, as a backup dancer, so she would be able to witness the reaction to her prank. She sneaked out of Box Five without making a sound or being seen.

She stood onstage, looking out at the rows and rows of red velvet seats, now filling with people, as she kept one eye out for any ghostly interference.

The opening song faded out... Beatrice kept her eyes trained on Box Five, straining them to see.

The thing about those boxes, they are very dark. In fact, without a light, someone could end up not seeing something on their seat if it was the same color as the bright red velvet covers.

For instance, wet paint used in making the scenes that stood behind her now.

Beatrice saw a flicker... was that him? It must be. She looked up to her surprise saw a face. The part not covered in mask was twisted into a frightening scowl. Beatrice took a deep breath but did not break her composure... she was a dancer. Her eyes continued to meet his, then he faded into the shadows and was gone.

Darn, she was going to have to clean that up somehow. If she hadn't been hung by his supposed magical lasso by tonight. What was she thinking? She wasn't a little kid anymore!

The opera dragged on, and she was tired by the end of it. Now to go clean up... she silently made her way up to the box and managed to get it clean. Hopefully, no one would notice anything had happened, and really, its not like the Phantom could do it himself. It would be rather cruel to just leave it like that.

She turned to leave, spotted with red paint and fairly certain there was a smear on her forehead where she had brushed away a loose strand of hair.

"Now where are you going off to so quickly." A now-familiar dark voice said from the shadows. I froze.

"To bed, monsieur."

"You seem to have lost your way. How odd to end up here." She frowned.

"I cannot play this game with you now. I needed to talk to you."

"You think this is a game? A little prank will defeat the Opera Ghost?"  
"Not at all. I do recommend you watch your back, sir. You never know what the dancers have thought of doing to some unsuspecting patron."

"I believe it is you who should be watching their back. I am not one to be summoned on a whim." She never saw him, but she knew he was gone. With that, she turned and went to bed disappointed. Laying there looking at the familiar patterns on her ceiling, she thought back to what he had said the first time they talked. The mention to Dante was bothering her, and she wondered if Madame Giry knew. She was the dance instructor, apparently having been at the Opera Populare forever. She was made the ballet mistress before Beatrice came, and would probably still be the mistress forever. Beatrice would often help her in keeping the ballet rats in line and assist in teaching them as one of the better dancers.

She went to sleep uneasily, still afraid of O.G, as she took to calling him in her head. In the morning, she went and found Madame Giry to ask for the day off, until her performance of course.

"What do you want the day off for?" She asked, rather bluntly. She knew about Beatrice's past and so was probably wondering what she would be doing alone in town. Beatrice didn't really mind her bluntness at all.

"Someone mentioned something about a Dante being led to Paradise and I wanted to look into it."  
Her eyes widened a bit. "Who told you you would lead them to Paradise?"

"N-no one." He specifically said he did not want her to attempt that, actually.

"You are looking for the Divine Comedy. It is not light reading, but it shouldn't be a problem for you, you always were a bookworm. I remember they tried to make that into an opera once... the result was simply horrid."

Beatrice smiled a bit, and after getting consent darted out to find the library in town.

Beatrice liked Paris, truly, but a part of her could not be swept up in all of the bustle. There were crowds everywhere. Without much delay, she walked into the library with a smile and was greeted by a kind looking old man.

"Hello, monsieur. I was looking to find The Divine Comedy?"

"Come and I will show you. May I ask what peaked your interest?"

"Someone I know referenced himself as Dante."

The man chuckled. "Does he have a fancy for a girl named Beatrice?" He asked in a joking way. She stopped walking.

"Why do you ask that?" She kept her voice only politely interested while on the inside she was panicking.

"Ah, Beatrice is Dante's love interest, and she leads him to Heaven."

"I... see. Thank you." She checked out the book and walked very quickly back to the Opera Populare. She needed somewhere to sit and read in peace. She knew her way around, and so quickly located a deserted dressing room. It was covered in a thin layer of dust and there were some props strewn about, but there was a chair in a desk. She stepped in to dust it off, and saw a huge floor-length mirror. Feeling self-conscious for no reason, she dusted off 'her' corner and put the book in a drawer, deciding to come back at night when there was less noise in the hall. Besides, no one was around to notice her slipping in and out.

She preformed her best, but was happy when she got back to the room, sitting at the rather sad-looking dresser. Here she could read undisturbed, and aloud as she did when something was difficult for her to understand.

"Well, this is definitely above my reading level. So interesting though." She said to herself. She was managing well and then stumbled upon a piece that reminded her of a certain masked man. "Oh Muses, o high genius, help me now; o memory that set down what I saw, here shall your excellence reveal itself!" She let out a slight laugh, wondering if she could ever call the O.G this way. Then something happened to frighten her right out of the chair and drop the book onto the table.

"Would you happen to be referring to me?" The voice came from the book, but it was obviously O.G's.

Before she could think, she replied "How arrogant of you to think." Then her eyes widened, wondering if he would punish her, but she heard a chuckle.

"Arrogant, maybe. It is the truth either way." Since she couldn't deny that, she simply nodded, then wondered if he could see her. She opened her mouth to ask, but he said, "Yes, I can see you."

From what direction? She wondered, but since the voice was in the book she assumed he was indeed in front of her... somewhere.

"I... I didn't expect you to hear me, in this old room."

"My dear, I am a ghost. I hear all."

She sighed a bit. "You are no such thing. Nor are you an angel." She replied, wondering what she was doing not running away for her life. There was silence a moment.

"Your reading voice is good. It is as if you were going to perform it onstage." Was he trying to change the subject? She didn't want to go along with it.

"Alright, we won't talk about the little girl you are misleading then. Thank you, I suppose. Now, I was wondering if I would ever see you?"

"Why would you wish such a thing? If you knew anything about me you would not."

"I am... curious, I think. All the rumors I have heard, and there are quite a few, haven't changed that." Beatrice said with a bit of embarrassment.

"As good a reason as any." He responded. "When do you retire for the night?"

"Oh, about one. Insomnia." She said quickly.

"Hnn." Of course he wouldn't have a normal sound while thinking. "Come here at midnight."

Beatrice's mouth dropped open for a moment before she closed it and coughed discreetly. "Why are you doing this?"

"To what do you refer?"

"Talking to me. You could have just ignored me and been done with it, or left a threat. I wouldn't have known."

"Perhaps I am merely curious." The even tone made her wonder if he was serious or making fun of her. "Oh, and Christine will be left alone soon enough. I have decided to focus my attention elsewhere." After that clear dismissal, she had gone back to reading for a few minutes before wondering if he meant her. Then she wondered if she should be afraid, because for some reason she was not. She went to the dorms around ten unworried about being questioned by the girls. They were used to her wandering around at night and not being there in the morning, but she always joined them when they slept. Oddly enough for a group of girls, at night most kept to themselves. After all, everyone shared one and a half bathrooms... which was a nightmare for most of them. There was a well-kept schedule and everyone had a small slot of time to get everything done. In the morning and afternoons, they made up for it with their talking.

She went to the room and got ready for bed as usual, though she slipped on more modest nightclothes and wore a robe over them.

Beatrice was in the room at 11, sitting in only dim lighting in case anyone were to wander by looking for a late meal or cleaning up.

This was a large risk, and she began to wonder if it was worth it. On one hand, she lived a totally normal, even boring life, but it was one she enjoyed more than anything. Acting and dancing were both things she lived for. Would she have to leave if she angered O.G, and what about Christine? On the other hand... her life was boring. She did the same thing every day, which wasn't really a problem, but she wanted something different and this was definitely different. Maybe she would end up getting hurt, but she wouldn't let anyone else get hurt from it. So she would stay and meet this man, because she really wanted to.

She was fully awake but when a clock somewhere chimed 12 she sat up a bit straighter, wondering if he was going to come. Then the last chime faded...

"You decided to come." O.G's voice came from the ceiling and she had no indication of where he was in reality.

"Yes, although I have begun to wonder if it was against a better judgment." She said to nothing in particular.

"You are not forced to be here." The voice said, and she wished she could make out the emotion in his tone, but she had no idea how he meant that.

"I know that, but I am not taken in with the idea that mysterious men are the best to get to know. Dangerous and all..." Dangerous, frightening, painful... she snapped back to reality.

"I mean you no harm." He said.

"How can I be sure of that at all? Thank you for the sentiment, I suppose." She looked down. She knew that simply saying something didn't make it true at all, especially from someone not only she but no one else had ever truly seen. There was a brief silence.  
"You have my word." He hesitated before saying that. She wondered if he was one of the rare few that really meant it when they gave their word. She had already decided to risk this...

"I will take you at your word and greatly appreciate it. Um, I was wondering if I could actually see you in person? I have no idea where you are or even what direction. Its hard to talk to someone like this."

There was a longer pause and she wondered if she had angered him. "Look toward the mirror."

Beatrice swallowed and did so. Her eyes widened when she saw the mirror slowly sliding open! What kind of mirror was this? So he could see her from behind it but she still saw a reflection? She wondered with a bit of dread how many mirrors in the Populare were like this one. But now she could see the figure well now that the mirror was opened and all of her attention was drawn directly to him.

She started at his feet, covered in fine black dress shoes. His suit pants were also black and had no wrinkles in them. A white shirt was tucked into his pants, plain but impeccable with buttons. A jacket that matched his pants rested over them and his evening-wear was completed by black gloves. She then continued up to his face. Luckily for her, she was indeed an actress and not too much frightened her. So her first observation was truly his light skin, before the fact he was wearing a mask set in. It didn't really surprise her, either. The mask started below his hairline and covered a good three-fourths of his face. The only parts not covered were his lips and lower right cheek and chin. Then she looked into his eyes and that was when her mouth opened slightly. They were _golden. _Not light brown. Gold. She longed to see them more clearly, but the mask largely covered both. His clothes, his posture, his unreadable expression, all of it was impeccable.

Realizing it had been at least two seconds, she blushed and closed her mouth. Looking at her feet now, she stuttered, "Would you like to sit down?" She blushed further at her voice.

O.G. didn't have any reaction besides very slightly inclining his head. He swept around her into the room. With a gesture he indicated she should sit. She did so without hesitation in the other chair in the room, an old floral armchair. He sat in the wooden desk chair across from her.

"You are the first I have revealed myself to in quite some time." The phrase was stated with no specific emotion, but its implications were there. If he was discovered in any way, she would be the only one to blame, and it would most likely not be good for her health. Another thought came to mind. She really was the only one that had seen him fully in all the Opera. Why did he choose her? He could easily have decided not to, or even taken care of her without her seeing a glimpse. Was there something he could possibly gain from her, other than company? She stopped to seriously think about that possibility before putting all theories aside. There was no way she would understand in such a small amount of time. So she did what her mama always taught her.

She gave him a genuine smile. "What would you like to talk about?" O.G blinked once, the only indication he was surprised by her, but she managed to catch it.

"It was you who asked me here." Okay. So it was up to her. Well, first things first.

"Thank you for coming." He just nodded.

"You know my name is Beatrice, but I do not know you by anything other than Phantom or O.G."

"No, you do not." He agreed. When she began fidgeting she saw a slight pull at the corner of his mouth. He was doing this on purpose! Well, if he was going to act so was she. She relaxed again and smiled a bit.

"That is usually when people give their name in return." He paused.

"I do not usually reveal that I am a man, and I only know of two who remember my name, neither of who would ever reveal it."

She looked down. "Okay." Now meeting his eyes for the second time she smiled a bit. "I understand. I would never tell anyone if you didn't wish it though. You definitely have my word on that."

I could tell he was actually thinking about it, and I wondered if I could ever learn to read his expression and tone. "Perhaps later."

She nodded in agreement, not going to push the Opera Ghost. She looked around the room and her eyes landed on a prop piano, which reminded her of something.

"Before you go, I do have an important question." His face darkened and eyes narrowed, not hiding the fact he was not in a good mood anymore. She realized that he thought her question would be about the mask. It was probably a common question, well as common as any questions could be for him. She held on to that information, deciding not to ask unless he brought it up first.

"Well?" He said after a second.

"I was wondering if you could always sing like you do, or if people can really be taught to be that perfect."

"Perfect?" She thought he might be arching an eyebrow. She blushed. "It is close, I suppose. I had no formal training, I learned all from personal practice, reading, and observation. The skill came naturally."

She was now close to her level of comfortable topics. "Reading? What is there to read about singing?"

"Everything you could think of and more, and it is surprisingly helpful, even if it teaches you to ignore most of the nonsense they spew." That made her laugh, she had read a few books on dance that were as far from the truth as possible, but once you tried something they said you knew not to do it again.

That was a long sentence coming from him and it made her happy. "Tell me more, if you would?" She asked, and he obliged.

An hour later, she had long since made herself comfortable in her chair. Listening to O.G was nearly hypnotic. As he taught her about music's tones and notes she could imagine his voice being the very instruments he described, his voice raising up in a crescendo and dipping low again in an aria... she realized her eyes had drifted closed and quickly opened them, blushing. He had still noticed,

"It is getting very late, you appear to need sleep." Beatrice shook her head quickly.

"No, monsieur, I doubt I could sleep."

He frowned, but it did not seem to be directed at her. Within a second his expression was neutral again. "You mentioned insomnia. Do you have nightmares?"

She swallowed hard. "No..." she said. How did he know that? Calm down, Beatrice, don't be paranoid.

"You are a terrible liar."

"I'm usually better, you caught me off guard." She said before she thought about it. "I mean-" She began to correct herself so she wouldn't end up at the wrong end of his anger. To her great surprise, a corner of his mouth twitched upwards. It was more of a smirk than a smile, but it meant he wasn't angry. Her tensed muscles relaxed again. "Okay. Well either way I cannot fall asleep."

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yes." She said, wondering where this was going.

"Close your eyes." She hesitated, but did as told. Then he began to sing to her. She could faintly recognize the tune and realized it was almost the same as Christine's lullaby. She meant to ask who the composer was, but she was already slipping into sleep. Five minutes later, she had lost consciousness. Sometime later, it could have been mere minutes or an hour, she swam back into slight wakefulness. Where was she? Not in the old dressing room. She was comfortable, and there were covers on her. It felt like... her own bed. Another cover was pulled up and she instinctively wiggled deeper into the bed. She felt the hand on the covers pull away quickly and realization dawned. O.G had sung her to sleep... and carried her all the way back to the bedroom.

"Thank you, Phantom." she managed to mumble, still barely awake. There was a pause and she thought he had gone, then, "Erik." came his whisper. A smile stretched across her face.

"Good night, Erik." She replied just as quietly, already falling asleep again.

When she woke up, it was much later than usual and it was only because Christine was frantically shaking her. Sitting up she yawned and looked at the young girl.

"B-Beatrice!" she cried. Instantly awakened, she pulled the girl onto her lap.

"Shh, shh, tell me what's wrong." She said, worried.

"I-I-"

"Okay, deep breaths first. I need you to stop crying so I can help you, okay?" As worried as she was, she didn't want Christine to pass out from her hyperventilating. A minute later, she was breathing normally. "It's Angel."

"Angel..." she said slowly, her eyes widening. She had nearly forgotten.

"What about your angel?" Beatrice's voice was calming.

"Look." was all she said, and held out a note that was already tear stained.

Dear Christine,

Your father told you that an Angel of Music would come and watch over you. He did not lie, but now it is time for me to go. That does not mean I will not be watching over you and protecting you, I just cannot do so on Earth. You are growing now, and you will have many friends. One day I will be naught but a memory you will look upon with, I hope, fondness. My dear, I leave you now on this earth, but will continue to watch. Remember your posture when singing. Do not be saddened, my dear pupil, for neither I nor your father would want that.

~Angel

The note was short but sweet. Angel... Phantom... Erik. She sighed but gave a small smile to Christine. He was so fond of her, must have been by her side for quite some time. He must also have known it was wrong, somewhat, because he gave her up. Although Christine would always have an unseen guardian in the Populare.

"Christine, don't be sad. Angel doesn't want you to be."

"B-but he-he's gone!"

"No sweetie, he said he is watching you remember? He is your guardian angel now. That means he can probably see you crying right now and he must feel bad." Beatrice said, and she thought it was most likely true.

"How will I know he's not gone forever?" She asked, though she had looked around and wiped her eyes.

Beatrice knelt near Christine so she was eye level. "Angels never break their promises, okay?" she said, looking at her.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. He'll be right there so he can see you become the star of the Opera." Christine smiled and then nodded sagely, as if she now knew everything about angels there was to know. Smiling herself, Beatrice stood up. "Now how about some breakfast? I can keep that note safe for you."

"Okay! See you later!" She said and ran off. Beatrice got ready for the day in her favorite dress, it was more casual and light than most, and it was in her favorite color, a night sky blue. She took the note and found herself walking to the dressing room. It wasn't until she was inside that she realized there was a very slim chance of Erik actually being nearby.

"Well, Beatrice, you really aren't the smartest." She said out loud.

"I hope you do not expect me to argue." She jumped at the noise and turned. Stepping out from the mirror was Erik. She crossed her arms in fake anger. He simply smirked in return and she laughed, shaking her head before remembering the note.

"Erik... may I call you that?" He hesitated, then nodded.

"Only in private, of course." She nodded quickly in agreement.

"I thought you would like to keep this safe. She will want it back some day. He looked at the paper and slowly took it in a gloved hand.

"I saw her cry. Where did you see her?"

"She woke me up to show me. Once she knew that you really were going to watch over her though she was alright. I know she meant a lot to you, and that it must have been really hard. Thank you."

"It was necessary." He said, looking at the ground and she could sense he was either angry or sad. Probably both.

"It was, but that doesn't make it any easier." She thought back to her own experiences with leaving... it had been so hard, even though she couldn't stay any longer. The thought of his anger, the way he came up to her fist raised-

"How would you know?" Erik asked, not expecting a good answer. Beatrice sat down slowly, trying not to think about Johnny.

"I-its not important."

"I do not like secrets." there was anger in his voice. Like _his. _There was always anger in _his _voice.

"Its not about you." She said, looking at the ground. "You would know if it went on here." Would he have stopped it? She had never heard anything about violence among the residents.

"Correct. So it would not do to lie to me."

_I hate a lyin 'bitch and thats you._

_No, please, I'm not-_

"It doesn't concern you, or anyone else here!" She said, louder this time, drowning out the memories.

"You are here in my Opera House." He walked over to her and she saw his hand raise out of the corner of her eye. Terror swept through her and she flinched back.

"I'm sorry!" she said quickly, eyes squeezed shut. Erik pulled away instantly, and she realized that he probably wasn't going to hit her. She blushed and didn't look up at him. It was quiet a moment.

"I think it would be best if you did tell me." Erik said, and it was more of an order than a request.

"M-maybe..."

"Later." he said. "When it is later." she worried about what he might think of her. "Before dinner, ask Madame Giry to excuse you and meet me here."

"She wouldn't let me have a day off for no reason." Beatrice said quickly, not sure if she wanted to get away.

"Leave that to me, just do as I say."

She contemplated what she was getting herself into again, then sighed and nodded. It was a little late to wonder now. In a way, he was the best person to tell. Who was he going to spread it onto? He was a 'ghost' after all, and dead men tell no tales. So she stated her agreement and they parted, Beatrice wondering for the first time what was behind that mirror.

Madame Giry excused her with no trouble, and gave her a suspicious and worried look the whole time she was dancing. She wondered just how well the Madame was acquainted with the ghost, but decided it was best not to ask any questions. She would respect his privacy, and when he decided to tell her something she would be more than interested in listening. Trying to walk confidently down the passages, she entered the dressing room without anyone noticing. She turned around and shut the door, and looking again Erik was standing and waiting for her. She let out a little yelp before slapping her hand to her mouth. She could have sworn she saw a smirk for a moment before he concealed his features.

"Come." Was all he said, and stepped into the dark passage behind the mirror.

"In there?" She asked dumbly. It looked dark and ominous, and embodied everything young girls should not do.

"Yes." He said simply. So she stepped in without a glance back and the mirror slid shut behind them. Erik led her through twists and turns, and her dancer's coordination kept her stable for the most part. It was pitch black in here, and she could barely see Erik's silhouette. After about a minute of her tripping along, she finally stumbled and fell forward. Strong arms caught hers before she could hit the ground. She looked up and could only see the white mask in the darkness, but the image that should have seemed frightful was reassuring and she smiled up at him shakily.

"Are you alright?" He asked a moment later.

"Yes. Its just quite dark down here and I don't know these passages like you do." She said.

"I see, I should have brought a lantern but the darkness no longer affects me." She nodded, stepping forward, and her hand brushed his. He looked down in surprise. She had done it accidentally, but it would be easier if she was closer to him to navigate. She didn't want to suggest it though, she couldn't think of any way that wouldn't be painfully awkward.

"If it would help you, you may take my hand." Erik said, in a nearly nonchalant way although he sounded as if he did not expect his offer to be taken up. Well, too bad for him. She didn't hesitate to take his hand firmly in her own and step forward a little.

Erik didn't move for a minute, she couldn't see well enough to guess why not, but he began to walk again and she followed much more easily this time at his side. Besides, he didn't have to glance back and make sure she hadn't fallen or slow down anymore. A few minutes later, he led her to a stairwell that they climbed for quite awhile before coming out of a hatch and she discovered they were on the roof. She tried to calculate the distance from the dressing room here, it was a much longer walk than it had taken to get here from Erik's passage, it must go directly underneath many rooms of the Opera. She wondered how many passages there were and just how many rooms he had a view into. They walked to the base of a statue and sat down on the white marble. It was a spring day, but one right after winter had ended and it was a bit gray outside with clouds and chill. Some thought it to be dreary, but she loved the rain. When it rained, things grew. Flowers and trees and stranger wonderful things that she found only in picture-book gardens as a child. Silly, really, but she still liked it.

She blinked back to reality and smiled at Erik, whose face didn't really change. She didn't expect it to, though.

"What were you thinking about?" He wondered aloud.

"How nice the day is." She saw his eyebrow quirk up and she took it as disbelief. "I mean, although it's gray now, once it rains everything is so nice and green. Besides, the gray is a bit close to silver and that is one of my favorite colors."

"Silver?"

"Yes. Like...raindrops, I suppose." _And mirrors _an unbidden voice in her mind told her.

He considered this for a moment and nodded, not showing any sign of agreeing or disagreeing. She was still smiling when he said "You had something to tell me."

She swallowed deeply. "I suppose it is time for me to tell someone." He nodded, waiting for her to continue. So sudden, his change in topics.

"Well, I'd better just start at the beginning. My mother was very poor, a servant almost. She worked for my father's father. When my father met her, they were instantly attracted. My grandfather refused to let them begin courting. They continued a relationship secretly until my mother realized she was pregnant. With me. They ran away on the next ship away, here to Paris. Time passed... and when I was only fourteen, I met a boy. John, call me Johnny, he said. He was older, seventeen at that time. My mother and father never liked him, and I didn't know why.

When he turned eighteen, and me only fifteen, I agreed to marry him. We ran off. I mean, my parents did, so why shouldn't I? I just couldn't understand them at the time. We parted on bad terms. We never should have parted at all. I lived in a fairytale for around two months, then Johnny started pressuring me. I didn't want to... consummate our marriage until I was eighteen, but he was tired of being a fiance, he said. He got more and more of a temper." Beatrice stopped, choking up at the memories that still frightened her.

"Beatrice..." Erik said softly.

"Its okay, I will finish. I argued back one day. He, he threatened me. I didn't believe him until I felt his hands on my throat." I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to cry over him, and took a few breaths. "I thought I loved him. So I stayed. For another six months, thinking it would miraculously get better. The last day I was there, he was going to force me to... you know. Somehow, I do not even remember how, I managed to get away. I lost him in the town and slept in different places, alleys and such, for a few days. Then Madame Giry found me, and took me in. She called me her stray cat." I smiled at that memory, but it faded quickly. "I was so stupid. Such a fool. I'm too scared to go back to my parent's house. If _he _ever finds me, he said he will kill them."

"You are no fool. You were young and immature, but never foolish." The way he tried to be comforting for her, obviously not knowing how, made her start crying in earnest. Hesitantly, he reached his hand for her arm. She took his hand and sniffed.

"Thank you."

"For bringing back bad memories? I should not have insisted."

"No, it was good for me. Now I can let it go, you know? I had to tell someone. You listened to me and let me cry like a child in front of you and didn't insult me for that. That's worth a great deal in my opinion."

He was quiet, but tightened his grip on Beatrice's hand. She gave him a shaky smile.

"What made you stay here?" He asked.

"I fell in love with everything about this place. Its music, the feel of it, seeing the singers work so hard. The art and props being so few but making a scene seem as real as life itself. Of course, for me, the dancing. Madame Giry called me a natural, said she wished she had gotten her hands on me sooner and I could be the lead dancer. I don't mind being where I am now. I never saw myself teaching, but now that I do I love it. I feel so proud of all the dancers when they perfect a move." She sighed happily. "And the piano."

"Do you play?"

"I wish I could. I never had money to pay for lessons, and I don't want to take anyone's important time by asking. Listening is nearly as good. Do you play?"

"Indeed I do, and I am the best. I know when I say listening is not as wonderful as creating."

She didn't doubt that he had every right to say that, but it stung a little. It wasn't entirely her fault she didn't play, after all. He spoke again.

"Beatrice..." He sounded hesitant. What could Erik of all people be nervous of? "I own a piano, where I reside beneath the Populare. Would you accept lessons from me?"

Her eyes widened and she froze. Erik was offering to teach her piano. In his home. She was no fool, she knew how much this meant to him, and to be letting her in, for her benefit alone...

"You would truly teach me? The famous Opera Ghost, in his very home?"

"Yes. Though perhaps I was too bold-" He was going to go on. And she didn't want him to change his mind.

"Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes. Please." She sounded like a schoolgirl, and wondered how much lessons from O.G would cost if he was charging, which made her grin. She looked at his surprised expression and calmed down a little. Angel of Music indeed.

"It is not too late, if you wish to begin now." I couldn't help but take both his hands in my own and tried to not bounce up and down in my seat.

"Thank you, Erik. I would love that." His eyes widened the slightest bit and she blushed – again! - dropping her hands back to her lap.

"Come." He said after a moment. She stood and followed him, back down the stairs and into darkness. This time, when she reached for his hand it was much less awkward, and they soon came to a wide passage, where Erik slowed down. Following him, she saw lights in the distance and then... wow.

There was a vast glassy lake, the reflection from a hundred candles flickering on it and giving it life. The mystical glow fell upon Erik and she realized she was staring at the striking figure.

She wondered if her skill in drawing could be rekindled. She would definitely be committing this to memory so she could try.

"Its gorgeous." She said to Erik softly.

"It is very rare to find a preserved lake beneath a building. Many modern architects would even say impossible, but they forget that is has been done in the past. Such as this, although you are now one of the four to know about it, myself included."

There were only two other people who had ever been here before, he was saying. She nodded to him, understanding and awe in her eyes. The mood lightened a bit as he helped her into a boat and he rowed across. She skimmed her fingers through the chill water, watching the ripples distort the flames.

She would be committing quite a few things to memory about tonight. Soon, he was helping her out if the boat into a large room, obviously his home.

He drew, she noticed by the pictures on the wall of past shows. She saw one, a beautifully rendered charcoal drawing of Christine in firelight sitting attentively in the chapel. There was a couch in the room, and a large chair. Then there was the piano. It was large, it was stunning, it was... there were no words. Music sheets were scattered on the top and a table in front of the couch, also covered in books of various kinds. The sheets were written in red ink. A violin case leaned against the table. A small hallway to her left, leading to three other rooms.

She turned to Erik, who had been watching her.

"Its wonderful. Like a story or a dream. He simply nodded, but she may have seen relief, or it could have been candle shadow.

"Please sit." He gestured to the piano bench. She did so. He showed her all of the keys with borderline saintly patience, and made sure she knew them. She was to repeat them until she knew by heart what each sounded like. For awhile she was just going down the line, but was soon experimenting with putting notes together. He did not stop her from trying things, just watched.

It was some time later when she stopped. "I know them." She smiled, surprised with herself. Well, she had been living in the Opera Populare.

"I thought you might have a musical talent. I did not ask before, would you like water?"

"Now that you mention it, yes please." He came back shortly with a glass of water, which she was glad to drink after all that crying. Thinking back, it had been a very embarrassing moment.

She was told to play the scales. Fifteen minutes later, she was very tired of playing the scales. Erik didn't seem nearly as tired of the same notes as she would have if she was listening to someone else play, but she was happy that she was playing the piano and the repetition wasn't bothering her very much at all. Still, she somehow doubted he played the scales this many times when he learned.

"Good." he said even later.

"What?" she asked, having been concentrating on the notes.

"The scales." He was obviously enjoying this. She smiled at him. "We can move on. You are not totally incompetent and can read music, I assume?"

Oh, yeah, that's how you make someone feel confidence she thought sarcastically. "Yes, I can."

"Here."

It was a music page with his signature red ink on the page. "You wrote this? Will I even comprehend it?" She asked in surprise.

"Excuse me?" He asked, sounding a bit put out.

"Well... everything you play is more wonderful than I could even begin to try and play." She said, blushing a bit, but the words were true.

"It is not a hard piece." He said softly, looking taken aback. As Beatrice read the notes, she thought the tone was familiar. Setting it on the stand, she played the first few keys. A smile grew on her face and she turned to Erik.

"The lullaby!" She said happily.

"Excuse me?" He said again.

"From when you sang me to sleep." She said and blushed. He nodded once, a small smile appearing on the corner of his lips. She was getting used to his small expressions. Knowing the tune was very helpful, and she played the song well enough. She realized how Erik could play so long and not get tired of it, knowing that she was the person creating this music was a wonderful thing.

The piece was soon over. "Thank you Erik." She said seriously.

"Why?" He asked. She didn't know how he could be so brilliant and yet so blind.

"For all of this. You let me come here, play your music on your piano even though I have never played before, listened to me, everything." He was good at making her blush. There was a comfortable silence for a bit as he absorbed that information. She remembered the time. "I should get back." She said with a sigh. He nodded and stood, waiting to lead her back to the surface.

"Could... I come back again soon?" She asked.

"If you wish to." He said, "You can come tomorrow once you are done giving dance lessons."

She had never told him about the dance lessons, but she wasn't surprised. He might have been watching her, and he did seem to know Madame Giry.

When Beatrice was across the lake, she realized that her eyes were adjusted to the darkness and she could see the passages now a little when before it had been pitch black. Still, when he reached his hand out to her she did not hesitate to take it. Side by side, they walked to the dressing room.

"Thank you for the day, Erik."

"It was my pleasure." He said, and she hoped that he meant it, because it was the best day she had in awhile.

Laying on her bed that night, she considered the reasons why she had such a nice time. He was understanding, even if he lacked the ability to comfort. But then, knowing that he cared was comfort enough. He listened and was always a gentleman, and even if his words were few he always meant them. She would have to talk to him about music more, she was thinking that if she did he would have more words.

Beatrice spent more time with Erik as the days passed. Spring was growing into summer and it was proving to be a hot one. She was learning how to play more and more intricate music in Erik's home, which always seemed to stay cool, no matter the time. About once a week she played the piano and another day she would simply visit and listen to what he had to play, or say, on rare occasions. She knew the passages almost by heart to his home, but there was an unspoken agreement between the two to hold hands.

At first, she compared it to a schoolgirl with a crush, before realizing that implied she liked Erik. Could she ever like him as more than a friend? Certainly she thought he was attractive, even with the mask, though she wondered what exactly was beneath it. The man was undoubtedly a genius in many fields, and he was fascinating. What was stopping her from liking him in more than a platonic way, then? She supposed it was her lack of knowledge on him, she didn't know much past he was the Opera Ghost, and yet she knew more about him than most. She wanted to ask, but was afraid to bring it up. They had what seemed to be a fragile friendship, if either had a fight with the other it may end the whole relationship.

Still, she couldn't sate her curiosity without answers, and figured the least she could do was ask. She recalled promising herself she would not do that exact thing awhile ago, and sighed. What to do?

She saw him the next day, when she usually just sat and listened to his music, and now she sometimes took her sketchbook and drew what came into her mind as he played. When she was without it and seemed subdued, Erik looked more closely at her.

"Are you well?" He asked. She was touched he noticed so quickly that something was off with her.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine." She said truthfully. She wasn't sick.

"Something is bothering you, though?"  
Oh, right, he was extremely observant. "I was wondering... and I don't want to pry... I don't know much about you at all." She looked up at him hopefully, and saw a guarded expression that worried her. He was tense, looking like a statue. Then, "I would rather not."

"Is there anyone who knows your past?" She wondered aloud, more to herself than as a question.

"Two people both know parts, and that is plenty."

"Is it really so horrible?" She was prying, stop it Beatrice. "If you think my view of you would change, it would not." She should listen to her brain more often.

"You say that because you have not heard it." He said.

"How can you be so sure-"

"Enough!" He yelled, and both froze. "I... I am sorry. My past is not a kind story." He said very quietly. She stepped closer, taking his hand.

"If you ever want someone who will listen, I am here. I would not judge, and I would not tell anyone, but I will not push you into something you don't want."

He nodded once after some silence. "Perhaps, some time, you might learn some of my history." She smiled at him now and nodded, taking his hand and lightly squeezing. He looked at her like he always did, slightly disbelieving. He never initiated touch, even waiting for her to take his hand in the passages, leaving her wondering if he disliked it or was unused to it.

Later, when Erik played for her, she thought about how stoic he usually was, and how sure of every movement he made. When he talked of his past, he hesitated. It had gotten him flustered very quickly. She knew that she could not even imagine what kind of life he had known, whatever his deformity was it couldn't have been easy to live with even in the best of circumstances.

Rumors were that he killed. If rumors really did have a basis in truth... she didn't want to think about it, but she knew that she should. What if he _had _killed someone? More than someone? He lived in seclusion, not wanting anyone to know him. Well, she would have to trust him for now.

She did trust him. It wasn't strange, really. Not when she considered how much he was risking for her, she had to give him the same amount of trust.

She smiled, sitting on the couch that was so comfortable, she began to drift off. She heard the music stop in her subconscious some time later, but her brain didn't come up with any reaction to it. Vaguely she heard footsteps, and definitely felt him pick her up, but couldn't bring herself to care. Her head lulled into his chest and she heard a quick inhale. She knew when he spoke, because his voice was recognizable no matter the state, and he said something in the confidence she was totally asleep.

"Beatrice." He sighed her name. "What kind of lovely and strange girl, who chooses to spend her time in the company of a creature?"

It took her the rest of the way back to her room to puzzle together that he was referring to himself. She would have to correct him, tomorrow. For now he had laid her on her bed and she was dozing off again happily with a smile on her face that grew when he brushed a lock of hair from her face.

When she awoke the next morning, she instantly remembered Erik's whispered words. Lovely. He called her lovely. She looked in the mirror in her room, which was on the wall and was definitely not a passage, and tried to see it. She couldn't, but that didn't matter at the moment. She needed to tell him he was not a creature, but a man whom she was very fond of, and she wanted to say it urgently. She didn't want to wait the whole day until she was done dancing, and it was barely light now, she had time.

She slipped off into the dressing room after quickly getting dressed herself and paused at the mirror. Until then, he had opened it, but she knew there was a way in from her side. Scouring the door, she finally hit a switch hidden quite well inside the door frame. Waiting a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she began the walk to Erik's home. She got to the lake and rethought her plan. The boat was on the other side! But.. there was a bit of shore around the outskirts. She sighed, but continued along it carefully until she reached land again, only barely getting her bare feet wet with the cold water.

"Erik?" She called softly into the dark room. There were usually more lights on than this. She looked at his piano, but he was not there. She turned left. She had never been down his hallway, staying in the living are with the couch and piano. Now she was too far to turn back now, so kept going. There were three rooms, two on the right and one on the left. She opened the first door on the right. It was a kitchen area, small but serviceable. She closed that door. The next room was gorgeous. It was large, with a bed she wanted to fall into and never leave. It looked unused, all the cherry wood furniture was bare. Exiting the room and closing the door, she turned around to the single door remaining. It would be his room, she knew, and she had made enough noise that by now she knew he was fast asleep.

She opened the door anyway, because she hadn't really thought about it. It looked a lot like the other room, and there was only one small candle flickering by the door. She looked at the shadow cast from the stand that was next to his bed where Erik lay.

It was his mask. She stepped forward in surprise, and the door closed behind her with a click. Then, everything happened rather quickly. Erik was awake and out of bed faster than she would have thought possible and she was pinned to the door, staring face-to-face with an unmasked Erik, who was in a plain white shirt and black pants.

She had screamed in surprise, because who would not when being forced against a wall with no moment's notice? Her throat was on fire, his arm was pinning it to the wall and she tried in vain to swallow. She directed her eyes to his face.

It was bad. The only not bad parts were what his mask did not cover, the lower right corner of his face and his lips. After a second she schooled her expression into a mostly calm one and she was focusing on breathing.

This was still Erik, obviously. She... she could get used to his face. Honest. It certainly helped her understand his avoidance of showing people. That didn't help the fact she was still pinned to a wall, but his brain was taking a second to realize it was her and not someone else.

When it clicked a second later, he practically launched backwards across the room and started yelling. She fell to her knees coughing and finally caught her breath, air was more precious to her now that she knew what the lack of it felt like.

"You... you little prying Pandora!" Well, that was much more eloquent than she would have been in that situation. "You little viper! Is this what you wanted to see?" After his outburst his back hit the wall and he slid down it into a sitting position.

A viper? Her? That was laughable. She hadn't _meant _to see him without the mask. But... oh... the man had nearly collapsed now on the ground and his face was buried in his hands.

"Can you even dare to look? Or bear to think of me, this... loathsome gargoyle who burns in hell! But secretly yearns for heaven, secretly... fear can change! You can learn to see than man behind the monster, this repulsive carcass..." She couldn't let him continue. These names, no one thinks of such things on their own, surely! Who had called him such disturbing things?

This was Erik, her Erik, who had comforted her more than he knew, who shied away from her lightest touch, who had the voice of an angel and the mind of a genus.

"Oh Erik." Was all she could initially say, his display of such emotion, so unlike him, the way he had briefly looked up at her but down again immediately, all these things were affecting her in a way she had never been before. She only knew that she needed to comfort him. She considered offering him the mask, but decided against it. It was a mask to more than his face, and with it on he would ignore this incident, she knew it.

So she crawled towards him on her knees, leaving the mask behind her. Erik looked up through his fingers, both hands shielding his face.

"Erik." She said again, softly but firmly. He was inching towards his mask and she touched his arm to stop the movement. Erik froze, something akin to fear shining in his eyes. She slowly, slowly reached up to his cold hands. A tiny gentle smile appeared on her face, and she held his hands with hers. He immediately moved to pull away, but she gave a single shake of her head and he froze again. Finding his voice, although much more hesitant than it had ever been, he whispered.

"Beatrice... what-" She put one finger on his lips, which seemed to stun the man once again into silence, and she took his hand with hers again, still covering his face. Then she moved them away, looking at him truly face-to-face for the first time. Her mouth went dry again, but she gave another tiny smile, if a little pained. His expression was one of pure panic and terror, instinctively entering into fight or flight mode. It hurt her almost physically to see him like this, and was all the more reason she had to make him understand.

"It's okay, Erik. It's okay." She said. He began shaking violently.

"What?" he whispered still quietly, and she pulled him in for an embrace which caused a strangled noise to come from him. She did the only thing she could think of, which was to hold him and rub his back.

"Yes, Erik, it is fine. You are no monster, you are the finest man I have ever met, and that is the honest truth. Whoever told you such lies should be locked away." This only intensified the sobs coming from the man, and they then sat in silence for a time she didn't know.

Finally, he broke away from her almost reluctantly.

"What did you come here for?" He asked her. She had forgotten the time and circumstances that had led to here.

"Oh... I heard what you told me last night, I was awake, but not awake enough to reply. When I remembered this morning, I decided I would come here and tell you that you were wrong."

"That I was wrong?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. You had said that you were a creature, and I needed to know that you didn't honestly think that. You shouldn't, you know. You are wonderful."

"I do not know how such a being as you can exist on the Earth." he said, and sounded in awe.

"Nor I you. It must have been fate that we met." She said with a smile. This lured a smile from him, and she found that although his face was ugly, she liked his smile. Now that she could properly see his smile and his eyes- or would, when it wasn't so dark- she found she didn't want them to be covered up. As soon as it came, it disappeared into a scowl.

"You do not know me, Beatrice. You do not know the things I have done." His words were harsh and bitter.

"So tell me, Erik." She said, and her words seemed to enrage him, although he never looked directly at her when he yelled.

"You want to know? You want to know the atrocities I have committed? The rejection I have known my entire life? Fine, then. You will know." He had stood, and she had to hurry after him as he strode into the living area and began lighting candles. She was unsure if it was just to keep his hands busy and gaze away from her or something else, but he continued talking as he did, so quickly that if it was any voice other than his she would not have understood all of his words. She silently took a seat on the couch and made herself as unnoticeable as possible.

"As a babe, my mother hated me. My father was dead. Before I had clothing, I was given a crude mask to cover my face. My mother refused to give me a name, so the priest called me Erik. She hated me every moment, for my deformity, for my skill in learning all things... once she beat me with the science book I had read, calling it blasphemy, and she often whipped me if she heard me play the piano. Later her hatred was fueled by the fact that her lover refused to marry her if I was a part of that deal. I left with nothing but scars and the clothes on my back. I found a gypsy camp, who thought I would make a wonderful new addition and forced me to perform for them by singing and then taking off my mask at the end. I grew so accustomed to beatings that I forgot it was not normal."

Beatrice had her hands over her mouth in horror and tears pricked at her eyes. Running out of candles, Erik sat on the piano bench and looked at a point in space.

"My jail keeper was a moronic man who was quite fat, and decided to take it upon himself to educate me in the ways two men can pleasure each other. This consisted of attempted rape. He left my cage unlocked, I took the knife from his belt and backed him into the cage. I locked it and left. I took the only key and all of his money. Some miles later I tossed the key in a river. Since it was the only one and the bars were of steel, I wonder what happened to the man. After that I wandered until I found a ramshackle town on the bay and a strange, fanciful boat the likes of which I had never seen. Fabric and spices were being carried off and large boxes of coins and other supplies were being carried on. A man caught sight of me, and thought I was a new worker. He told me he didn't care a lick what odd adornments the damn Frenchmen chose to wear as long as they worked, which I did. I stayed on the boat and ended up in Persia."

"P-Persia?" Beatrice was stunned. He continued like he didn't hear her.

"I met a man named Nadir down at the docks, where I sold medicine I learned to make from the gypsies. He begged me to come to his home. Once there, I discovered his son who had an incurable disease. I did all I could for the boy, he grew on me. I created toys the likes of which no one had seen which played different tunes and made him happy. But I could not cure him. Nadir and I came to the conclusion that instead of pain for years and a slow death, we would peacefully put him out of his misery. I did so with a potion."

Beatrice was sobbing, she knew Erik must hear her... or perhaps he didn't. He never looked away from the random point on the wall.

'Through a strange sting of events, the Shah noticed me. She was a despicable and spoiled person like no other. She also had a taste for... the macabre. Torture, specifically. Killing was a close second. So she commissioned me to build her a torture chamber or she would kill me. So I did, one far beyond her expectations. The room looked like a jungle, but there was only a metal tree in the middle and mirrors did the rest. Slowly it got hotter and hotter and there was no escape... but there was a rope on the tree. She wanted me dead, nonetheless. Nadir helped me escape here and Madame Giry discovered me, barely twenty and over-full of life, wanting to die. Music saved my life, I had always loved it but had never known... never knew a place like this would be real in a world so terrible. I became a ghost among the halls until I truly became the Phantom. Here I have been for nine years."

He stopped, lost in memory. Beatrice's brain struggled to process this information she had never considered before. Erik... Erik was twenty-nine. He had been to Persia. He tortured people, if indirectly. His mother hated him... Erik turned to her, his eyes hard and cold, but shining, almost glowing. She gave a sob and stood on shaky legs, nearly running to him and embracing him with all her might.

"What?" He asked, sounding lost.

"I'm so sorry. You deserved none of that. You must know, you _have _to understand, you are a good man."

Erik choked out a humorless laugh.

"Of course, torture is a kind and loving practice." He said with biting sarcasm.

"You were forced, you were trying to survive, you didn't stay or directly hurt anyone. A similar and more painful chamber would have been built if you were not there, even if it makes me sick to think about. Oh, Erik, all you got was hate when you deserved love and recognition of your genius." She couldn't say more, she was crying again.

She was stunned to find that Erik was as well now, silent sobs racking his body.

"I could not be allowed love. This face... this face which condemns me to wallow in blood has also denied me the joys of such a thing."

"Such a thing! Erik, I cannot know for certain but Nadir helped you escape, he must me your friend. Madame Giry is protective of you, I know that now. Christine would have been lost without you and never begun to sing as she does. And... and me. I-" She broke off, realization of what she had been about to say hitting her like a sandbag from the stage.

She loved him. Regardless of all he had done. Regardless of his face. Or perhaps even because of these things, it didn't matter. She loved him.

"And you?" Erik said, and she knew he needed to hear it, even if he would hate her for it.

"And I am-I am in love with you, Erik." It was silent except for their breathing which was shaky from both.

"_What?_"

"I'm sorry. I know I am no one, but I can't change it. I love you."

"Love." Was all he said in a choked whisper and looked her in the eyes, then fell into her. She wrapped her arms around him and this time he did the same. "Gods, Beatrice, do not lie to me!" He cried in desperation.

"No, I would not. I love you, Erik."

Their eyes met, and if hope could be shown through such a thing it was clear as day.

"I love you too, Beatrice." He said, and they kissed each other. Neither one really initiated it, their passion had been lit like fireworks and neither wanted to let go. She lay her hands on his face and he savored every moment, having been so starved for touch even such simple things felt like a trail of fire on him, and he never wanted it to stop. When Beatrice's mouth parted he took advantage, instinct controlling his movements as his tongue slid across her lower lip, asking for entry to explore her mouth further which she granted easily. Finally, both broke apart and took deep breaths. Erik's hair was rumpled from Beatrice's hand being ran through it and her face was flushed and lips slightly swollen. Both were thinking how beautiful the other was, and when they whispered in sync "I love you," neither was surprised.

"I need to know now if you will leave me." Erik whispered.

"I do not know what gave you the idea I ever would. No, you are stuck with me now." They both laughed, still slightly breathless. Then, "Oh no!" She groaned.

"Excuse me?" He asked.

"I have no idea what time it is, but I have dancing to teach today."

"Hnn. That will be a problem. Do not worry, come with me."

"Okay. As much as I dislike the thing, will you need your mask?"

He blinked in surprise, forgetting he was not wearing it. He nodded and she retrieved it. He put it on and once again looked like the Phantom, while she looked like nothing more than a rather rumpled girl. She followed him to a different passage she had never been before.

"Where-" He put a finger to his lips. She soon saw light coming from somewhere. A strange stone shape was in front of her.

"Exit quickly and quietly. I will be waiting for you once you are done." She nodded once, and he pushed something on the wall. The stone made no noise but opened and she slid through the tiny area. Making sure it was closed, she heard a throat being cleared and gasped, spinning around.

"Madame Giry! I-I can explain."

"Please do, my dear." Was that amusement?

"Umm... well... okay, no I can't." To Beatrice's surprise, she laughed.

"A shame, I would have loved to know why you exited from behind a stone statue backstage. You are late. Go get ready to teach."

Beatrice blinked in surprise, but didn't argue and she scampered off to get ready in record time. Madame Giry sighed after she had left but it was not unhappy.

"Erik, do try not to make her late next time." She said aloud at a normal voice level, sure he was listening. She thought she may have heard a chuckle as she left to get the children back in order.

After dancing, Beatrice managed to catch the dance instructor alone.

"Madame Giry?"

"Yes dear?" She asked distractedly.

"I'm not sure how to phrase this... do you believe in the strange goings-on here?"

Madame Giry gave Beatrice her attention. "I'll save you the trouble of figuring out a way to ask this. Yes, I know the Phantom."

"You have seen and talked to E-him?"

"Yes, I have seen and talked to _Erik. _And no, I will not tell you anything about him."

"No, I didn't want you to. Though why not?" She asked out of curiosity.

"We have a deal, you could say. And that is all I will say."

"Right, thanks anyway. I just wanted to know if you knew of him..." She would ask Erik about whatever deal they had.

"And your going to see him? When brought you into this Opera House, do you remember what you promised me?"

Beatrice didn't have to think about it. "Not to cause any trouble."

"Do you not consider talking to the resident ghost making trouble?"

"Well... umm..." she had never thought of that.

"Indeed. Would you agree not to see him again?"

"What!?" The thought alone of it hit her like a tsunami and she did not hesitate a second. "I'm sorry, Madame, you don't know how much I respect you, but I will continue to go see him, even if you forbid me from it."

The madame smiled. "Good, child. Determination is needed for all things in life. Now go on." The madame turned away and Beatrice was clearly dismissed, leaving her as confused as Erik did most times. Speaking of Erik... she walked to the dressing room. Erik was waiting for her inside, and he stepped out of the shadows into view.

"Good evening." He said.

"Good evening." She smiled at him, once again looking impeccable without a hair out of place. He made an odd sort of half-gesture with his hands and she took a moment to realize he hadn't a clue how to initiate a hug. She walked up to him, tilting her head back so she could see him better, he was a head taller than she was. He relaxed once she was near and she wound her arms around him. She pulled back and went up on her tiptoes so she could kiss his cheek. A smile grew on his face that was noticeable even with the mask.

She had no idea what her future would bring, but she was perfectly content with whatever it was. It was certainly bound to be interesting.


End file.
